Baby Steps
by whispers of willows
Summary: I’d waited my whole life to find a man like Mac Taylor. Mac/Stella.


Sometimes I find myself thinking it was fate. But then I'd remember every little segment of time that I found myself wanting to be close to him and perhaps fate had something to do with it, but part of it was, at first, just indulgence in fantasy. He was calm, a rock in the middle of the chaotic city that droned on without cessation. He was a no-nonsense man, steadfast against the waves of horror and death that he faced everyday.

Someone strong, like me – I'd waited my whole life to find a man like Mac Taylor.

There he was, having stood from his chair the moment I walked in. And people seemed so convinced that chivalry was dead.

This was a complicated story. Well, more complicated than it usually is. I'm used to a simple home life because work was _always _based on the next complex mystery to be solved. Nonetheless, it involved a few wrong turns and one very jealous girl that, if I didn't look in the mirror everyday, I'd never have realized was me. Stubbornness, you could call it. But I'd like to think it was just because I thought I knew myself so well that nothing could ever surprise me. Well, that old adage was right – you learn something new everyday.

Let me start at the beginning, where things became…complicated. Lindsay had only just had her baby and the pictures started popping up in Danny's wallet and contributed to the organized clutter surrounding her workspace. Looking at the pictures of pink blankets and wide blue eyes became a morning routine for me. I'd come in with coffee, sit down and see the pictures on Lindsay's desk.

Lindsay, who had miraculously evaded the dreaded post-partum depression, would come in with her own cup of coffee and light up the world with her radiant smile. Then again, Lindsay was superwoman. She was also at least ten years younger me and Danny had, undoubtedly, hand fed her bonbons and fanned her with palms in the third trimester of her pregnancy. A little fine treatment could go a long way.

At first, I complimented her. _Lucy is_ _beautiful, Lindsay. You guys are very lucky to have her. _They were always genuine because there was no room for false flattery – Lucy _was _beautiful and they _were _lucky to have her. That's what got me to thinking. Lindsay was younger than me and already had a gorgeous baby girl to go home to every night.

I considered the epiphany a nuisance and an impossibility. Not only was I not married, but I had a high stress job that kept me moving nearly all hours of the day, not to mention the surprise calls that dragged me out of bed at three in the morning. My biological clock was still ticking, but as a woman who was a slave to her job, it was simply impossible.

However, even acknowledgement of the facts couldn't keep me from being slightly envious of Lindsay and her family. She was never alone, never felt like there was something missing from her life that nagged and pulled at the back of her head when she least expected it. Danny loved her and had promised her his entire world.

Little did I know that, behind the covert half-smiles and quiet, somber demeanor that I took for granted everyday as our quiet camaraderie…

Mac had already long since promised me his.

* * *

It was an accident; it never should have happened and, to this day, I regret that night. Not because it shouldn't have happened at all, but because it should have happened _right._

We were drunk after a particularly difficult case, one that hit home for me and almost knocked me flat on my ass with realization. An older woman had lost her husband to an arson, burned alive in the same office in which they'd been introduced mere _years_ before he ended up a bundle of scorched bones. Mac, always attuned to my every thought, took me out for drinks.

He never specified, never said I should only have one, so I downed five shots of Tequila and a beer before he dragged me out of that godforsaken place and back to my apartment. That's where it happened – I slept with my best friend and had the gall to never speak about it again. Mac was always the sort of man that shied away from the dynamics of conflict and so he never mentioned it; now, as I stood before him, my hands curled over my stomach like some sort of telltale sign. _Look, Mac…there's a nice little surprise inside!_

All that envy I'd been directing toward Lindsay was the root of the entire ordeal, the foundations which would ultimately lead to the biggest mistake of my life – but also the best.

"Stella?" He was still frozen, but at least he'd finally said _something_. I'd hoped for anything…but I never stopped to think that, in this one moment of vulnerability, I didn't want to hear him say my name. It was like he was justifying it, saying it was _okay _when it wasn't. _Don't, Mac_. _You don't always have to say it's alright._

"I have something I want to tell you, Mac," I said. "Something that involves you and me."

"Oh," he replied, voice quiet. "Well, come on in and sit down. You can tell me everything."

"No, if I don't say it now…I don't think I'll be able to say it at all."

The vigilance became multi-faceted, etched with worry and the deeper, darker manifestations of fear in his soft eyes. "What's going on…tell me."

_Just say it. Look at him…the anticipation is killing him. _"I'm pregnant."

He didn't ask how, thank the heavens. He didn't sigh or gasp or even allow the surprise to seep into the worn, battle-weary features in which I'd long since founded my sanctuary. As always, Mac Taylor was the calm in the storm – he didn't even seem to blink, taking the full-force brunt of my confession with all the graceful composure that I'd come to expect of him. It was a comfort, his innate serenity. I wanted him to hold me, let his poise reach into me and allay the cold, gripping dread that flooded through my veins.

"It's mine." It wasn't a question.

"Did you even have to ask?" I smirked.

"No harm intended." He countered gently. A fleeting smile ghosted over his face and I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. If we had been young, it would have been a moment of joy, one that couldn't be contained no matter how pressing the code of conduct. We would have thrown caution to the wind and allowed the entire world witness our blissful embrace. But youth was most certainly absent in the both of us – in my tired slouch and in Mac's shadowed eyes.

Instead, he walked over to me, sighing that weary sigh of his that belonged only to him and no one else. His hands fell away from his hips, that defensive stance that shielded him from harsh reality, and he let me into him – like he always did.

Mac gathered me into his arms, something that he had done a million times before. I didn't cry. I simply wrapped my arms around him, nestling into the protective warmth of his figure and promised him my world as well.

Perhaps we could share it with the life that had already begun to blossom inside me.


End file.
